


Best Kind of Friends

by BastardSonOfDay (Diana_Raven)



Series: New Rules [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Basically PWP, Feyrhycien - Freeform, Multi, Smut, This is probably the only smut i'll ever write, Threesome - F/M/M, cuz thats just who i am as a person, pwp but with 5k exposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/BastardSonOfDay
Summary: On Feyre and Rhysand's list of fantasies is threesome, and Rhysand has someone in mind.





	Best Kind of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, yall! 
> 
> This fic was inspired by the [ Dodie Clark ](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKVfKr96Ifr3Dnhb6mhDAdw) song [ In the Middle ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2i0VZCoM5gI). Fic title taken from the song. 
> 
> This two-shot probably the first and last smut I'll ever write, so go easy on me please. 
> 
> Also sorry Lucien is a little ooc. 
> 
> Thanks to @rhysands-highlady and @felrecsuszott-nyakkendo for betaing.

Feyre takes a deep breath as she falls against the silk sheets. The cabin is quiet, except for her and Rhys’ heavy breathing. She turns to glance at Rhys and he giggles in the aftershocks of his orgasm as his eyes follow the mountain designs on the ceiling above them. Feyre had painted it during one of their extended stays here. They take a few minutes, basking. The silk feels like fire against Feyre’s skin. After so much sex and pleasure, her nerves are electrified. Everything feels better and sharper than she could ever have imagined before meeting Rhys, and her senses are only amplified by the bond and Rhys’ own ecstasy.

They’re winding down now. Rhys curls up next to her, a hand snaking around her waist. Feyre presses a kiss to his hand, before pulling away from him and up as she stands. “I’m getting something to drink,” she explains. “Want anything, love?”

Rhys shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. _Don’t stray long…_ He hums through the bond, making a shiver run down her arms and back. He watches her go, indulgent eyes watching her. She gives him an extra shake of her hips to make him smile. Rhysand chuckles. The sound makes the peach fuzz on her neck and arms stand up.

Feyre chuckles as she fills a glass with water in the kitchen, her eyes watching Rhys through the open doors of the room. Rhys sits up and stretches, which makes her laugh. He’s clearly doing it because he knows she’s watching. Not five minutes of rest, and they’re back to foreplay. She drinks slowly, savoring the few moments of silence and rest. Not that she couldn’t rest for longer if she didn’t want to, Rhys is willing to stop whenever she is. But, at the rate they’ve been going… she needs it.

Feyre finishes and put the glass next to the sink before hopping back into the bed with him. Rhys grins and presses a kiss to her temple. Feyre flushes and grabs the pencil and notebook from the bedside table drawer she and Rhys have stashed it in.

Feyre finds the page they’re on and wets the pencil tip with her tongue before she crosses off the latest fantasy the two of them have indulged in. Rhysand kisses Feyre’s neck casually as he glances over her shoulder. They’re slowly making their way through sexual fantasies. Before they wanted to try making a child, Feyre suggested they get their fantasies out of their system. Both Feyre and Rhysand made a list, ranking their fantasies in order of oldest to newest. Feyre suggested that they worked from fantasies they’d had the longest to the newer ones. They’d collected both lists, and traded off ever other when they’d created the combined list (after crossing out ones that the other wasn’t okay with, or ones that they’d both had as those had top priority).

Rhys, it turned out, was the more vanilla of the two. It took much convincing on Feyre’s part to even tell her some of the more risque fantasies he had because he was afraid she would be disgusted or would think them weird, and Feyre had been okay with almost every one.

Feyre crossed “Role-play – High Lord Consort and Stable Boy” off the list. Role-play was a common enough fantasy with different situations that Rhys and Feyre had decided to list each role-play fantasy separately.

The next fantasy was Rhysand’s. “Threesome.”

Feyre turns to Rhys. “So?” She says. “Who do you want to ask?”

Rhysand opens and closes his mouth much in the way a fish does. “Uh.”

The rule is that they aren’t allowed to continue on to another fantasy until the next one the list is completed. So, Feyre is pretty much willing right now to bring an Illyrian in off the street, if it would suit Rhys.

Feyre realizes that this might actually be a longer conversation than she’s giving it. She lowers the pencil and puts the notebook back on the table. She sits back, letting the carved headboard bite into her naked back. She takes one of Rhysand’s hands in her own, playing with it as she speaks. The fantasy itself is in the middle of the list, but the higher end of middle, so it’s been one that Rhys has had for an adequate amount of time, if not a long period of time. He’s probably thought about it a lot.

Rhysand says nothing.

Feyre cocks her head. _What’re you thinking?_ She strokes Rhys’ arm gently.

_N-Nothing-!_

He’s panicking.

_Look, if we’re going to have a kid, you should be able to tell me who you want to have a threesome with._

Rhys gives a confused look, as if her reasoning makes no sense. Feyre rolls her eyes. “Okay. Let’s start easy: males or females?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want two males or females?” She asks. “I know some men, they’d rather have a threesome with no other men. I mean I assume you aren’t-”

Rhys scoffs for her. “No, I’m not-. No. I’m okay with having a threesome with another male.” Rhys says. “What do you think?” Rhys asks, he kisses her fingertips.

“It’s your fantasy, love. This one’s all about you.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Feyre smiles despite herself. “You won’t. If you go too far, you know I’ll tell you. Which you won’t. What do _you_ want?”

Rhys swallows thickly and lays down, staring at the mountain and starscape that Feyre had painted on the ceiling. “Let’s just rest, now, yeah?” He whispers to her. He kisses her mouth and settles in next to her. “I… have to think about this one.”

“Okay. You’ll tell me when you’re ready?” Feyre asks softly. “If you’re so uncomfortable—we don’t have to do this if you changed your mind, you know. Just because it’s on here doesn’t mean it can’t be removed-”

“No. No, I-I want to do this. I just, I need to think about our invitation.”

“Okay.”

Rhysand cuddles closer to Feyre and she pulls the blankets over them. That night, worried for her mate, Feyre doesn’t sleep well, but Rhysand sleeps without an additional word.

* * *

When Feyre awakens, Rhysand has made her breakfast. She smiles at him and eats as he sits across from her, a nervous look on his face. She can feel his anxiety through the bond. Feyre eats, and listens.

“Okay. There’s something I need to preface this with.” Rhys takes a deep breath, as if he’s terrified. Feyre sends some comforting vibes down the bond for him. He accepts them, and she watches as he physically relaxes. His shoulders relax and droop, the wrinkles disappear from his face, relief flickers in his eyes. “I’ve been around way longer than you have.”

“Uh huh.” Feyre says with a mouth full of food.

“A few hundred years.”

“Yes, old man.”

Rhys chuckles at the nickname, abating his anxiety even further. “Okay. I’ll get to the point. I have… had this fantasy for longer than I care to admit… I’ve… had threesomes before, but there was always one combination that I’ve always wanted to try. Even before you came into the picture.”

Feyre frowns when Rhys pauses. She puts down her silverware. “Are-are you trying to tell me you want a threesome without me?” She asks in a tone that’s more puzzled than accusatory.

“No!” Rhys cries. “No! That’s-! Long before you even existed I had this… _hole_ inside me, waiting for you to fill. That’s just… the nature of having a mate who isn’t born yet. I _knew_ you were out there one day. And I _never_ want to imply that you’re not enough for me.”

“Okay.”

“But my threesome fantasy… and remember, you can always say no,” Feyre nods, “has always been… _you_ , my mate, and someone else.”

“Oh! So you have someone in mind already!”

“Yes.”

“Why do you still seem nervous?”

“Because you know this person.”

Feyre blinks. “I do.”

“Yes.”

“Is it… someone I like?” It takes all of Feyre’s willpower not to read Rhys’ mind. She’s been getting better at respecting other people’s mindspaces.

Rhys chews on his lip. “Like is an interesting word… I _hope_ you like him.”

 _A ‘him’, okay, at least we’re getting somewhere now._ Feyre thinks.

“The two of you are friends, but you… argue a lot.”

“So… not Helion.”

Rhysand laughs. “ _No_. Definitely _not_.”

“Okay, then who is it?” Feyre insists.

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“No! Why would I be mad? I already told you, if I’m uncomfortable-”

“You’ll tell me, yeah. Fine. I just-I’ve never told this to anyone before. Least of all _him_. Which, I would have to if we do this.”

“Presumably, yes.” Feyre agrees. She looks back down at her meal. “Take your time.” She says. She takes a bite of pancake at the same time that Rhysand says: “Lucien” and chokes on it.

After the commotion of Feyre’s issues swallowing food is settled. Feyre takes a long sip of her morning tea while Rhysand waits for her second reaction (hopefully, he jokes, better than her first).

“Lucien?” She asks when she finishes musing the possibility over.

“Yeah.”

“Lucien Vanserra?”

“Yes.”

“I’m-” She wants to be supportive. She’s certainly thought about it more than once, that’s for sure. But… how would Rhysand-? “ _Why_?” is what ends up coming out of her mouth, a lot more harshly than she wants it to. She’s halfway through apologizing and trying to explain her question when Rhysand responds and she prompts shuts her mouth.

“Lucien and I have known one another for a long time. And during that _long_ time, we… may have been … how should I say this… _involved_ periodically.”

Feyre’s eyebrows raise. “Involved? Like, Amren and Varian are involved or like Cassian and his Special Friend of the Week are involved?”

“More like… Helion wants to be involved with Cassian.”

“Oh. Okay.” Feyre says with a shrug.

“You’re-You’re okay with that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“It’s just-You’re friends and I-”

“Your sexual history before we got together doesn’t really bother me. The consensual aspect, of course. I’m glad Amarantha is already dead, because if she wasn’t I’d-”

“Feyre, darling. You’re on a tangent.”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, so sure. If you think he’ll say yes, go ahead.” Feyre says slightly cynically.

Rhys frowns. “Do you think he won’t?”

“Uh…” Feyre thinks for a minute. “I’m not sure. He’s quite unpredictable about sex.”

Rhys nods. He glances at Feyre as she eats. “Are you _positive_ -?”

“Rhys. It’s not like I haven’t had fantasies about having sex with Lucien either.”

This seems to surprise Rhys for some reason. “Really?”

“He’s quite sexy.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And he, Tamlin, and I were locked in a manor for weeks together.”

“Yes, but you were in love with Tamlin at that time.”

Feyre shrugged. “Doesn’t mean Lucien wasn’t still hot.”

Rhys nods, a content expression traveling onto his face. He grins at Feyre. He hadn’t expected to be having this conversation with his Mate, but Feyre… was so open-minded, and kind. _Maybe it came with being an artist,_ Rhys thinks. He had hit the jackpot. “You’re awesome, Fey.”

“I know.” Feyre says playfully.

Rhys tackles her for the grin she sends him and they’re giggling as they kiss one another. The kiss snowballs into sex, which surprises neither (sex is allowed, as long as it doesn’t include a specific fantasy).

They’re cuddling one another afterwards, just basking comfortably. Something occurs to Feyre suddenly. _What if he says no_? She asks Rhys.

Rhys frowns. _I-I hadn’t thought about that_.

 _Well, either way we should ask him. We can’t continue until we’ve checked this one off_.

Rhys glances at Feyre.

 _It’s your fantasy._ Feyre says, pushing him playfully, _you ask him_.

_But-!_

_What you think he’ll say yes to me but not you? That wouldn’t make sense._

Rhys blushes. _I haven’t-I mean. We were a long time ago, and I-_

 _Awww, are you embarrassed_? Feyre asks, squeezing Rhys’ pink cheeks.

Rhys pushes her gently. _Shut up_.

 _Exactly how long have you wanted this_? Feyre asks, curiously. Rhys seems to have lost his anxiety about the situation now that he knows that Feyre is okay with it.

Rhys shrugs _. A few hundred years._

_Isn’t Lucien, like, three fifty?_

_Yeah… something like that._

_So…_

_Yeah, Lucien and I- As far as I know, I was Lucien’s first male, back when he came of age._

_But you weren’t his first?_

_Oh definitely not. If I was then everyone else who had boasted of it were lying and… no judgment, of course. But there was a list before me._

_I didn’t know Lucien had such sexcapades._

Rhysand snorted childishly at the word ‘sexcapades’. _Oh yeah. Before Jes, there were quite a lot. After Jesminda, no one spoke of it anymore but… there were rumors that he was still taking lovers occasionally and then-_

_And then what?_

_And then… There was this one time._

_Ahhhh…_ Feyre says knowledgeably. _This one time_.

 _Yeah,_ Rhys laughs, _this one time. That turns to more than one time, of course._

_As they do._

_Exactly, and then… well, Tamlin found out._

_Ah._

_He’s not a homophobe or anything, don’t get me wrong. At least, not outwardly. But I was the enemy, see, and that couldn’t stand._

_Ah._

_So after that…_

_You had a few more times, but in secret?_

Rhys laughs and kisses Feyre’s head. _I love you so much. Yeah, pretty much._

_When was the last time?_

Rhys fiddles with his fingers, cutting off his mind from her with a snap. “I-I would rather answer that with his approval… you know?”

Feyre nods, understandingly. _So it was relatively recently then,_ she decides. “Yeah. Of course.” She takes his hand in hers. “Lucien told me he’d been in Winter this week, something to do with magic and ice and fire and an inequality in the weather in the Mortal Realms… I don’t remember offhandedly.” Feyre suggests.

“Do you want to go down to see him? ‘Hey Lucien, I know you’re doing some diplomatic work and everything but Feyre and I just popped over to ask you for a tumble, if you don’t oppose to it, pop on by our cabin in the woods in the Night Court and we’ll have a little romp and send you on your way.’”

“Perfect! You already have an outline of what you’ll say to him.”

“ _Feyre_ ,” Rhysand whines, “how do you ask someone for a threesome?”

“Just like that.” Feyre says. Rhys stares at her and she grabs his hand, pulling him off of the bed. “Let’s go.”

The two of them dress eventually (a couple of distractions on the way).

* * *

“Rhysand!” Kallias cries happily. He bounds from his throne, ignoring the protests of the Court member he was in the middle of a conversation with. Rhys laughs and hugs him. Kallias kisses Rhys’ cheek. He then hugs Feyre and kisses her cheek too. “What are you guys doing here?” The visit is unexpected, Rhys and Feyre didn’t bother to announce their arrival.

Rhys raises an eyebrow and glances Feyre, mouth open to respond but with _no idea_ how to say ‘yeah, we aren’t actually here to say ‘hi’, we’re here to have sex with one of your guests.’

Luckily, he didn’t have to respond; Kallias had continued talking. “Viv isn’t here right now, but she kept nagging me to call you and I forgot! We’re so sorry about not being able to make it for your latest party-” Rhys and Feyre had a party about a week ago as a home-warming to their new apartment in the city. They’d invited their friends and the High Lords of the other Courts (out of courtesy), about half of their invite list ended up coming (most of the declines being High Lords, which was fine, but Kallias and Viviane had been missed). “-but there was just so much going on-”

“It’s fine, Kallias.”

“-And besides Viv and I were and are planning our own party soon-Speaking of which! You both are _definitely_ invited! I’ll send your invitations with you before you go back.”

“Thanks, Kallias. That’s sweet of you.” Feyre says.

Kallias finally takes a breath and stops talking. “So why are you guys here again?”

“Uh, Kallias, we’re not actually here for you...” Feyre says slowly.

Kallias frowns. “You want me to get Viv then? ‘Cuz she’s at the doctor’s-”

“Actually… We’re here to talk to… Lucien. Is he around?”

Kallias doesn’t seem surprised, but he doesn’t question them. Which makes Rhys exhale with relief. “Sure. He and half the Court went out to the Icicle Shack. Viv went to the Doctor’s so we decided to break for the day.”

The Icicle Shack. “Man, I haven’t been there since…. What, Thesan’s coronation?” Rhys says.

Kallias laughs. “I think you’re right. It survived Amarantha, thank the Cauldron.”

“ _High Lord_!” The courtier that Kallias had been talking to earlier whines.

“Be there in a second,” Kallias calls. He shouts out, summoning a small gust of cold wind. He speaks to it as if it was a fae and the wind rushes past them to get Rhys and Feyre’s invitations for the party. He turns apologetically back to Rhys and Feyre. “Well, I hope you find Lucien well.” Kallias hugs his friends again, kissing them goodbye. The wind returns with two folded pieces of paper that are cold like ice and the golden lettering on the white cardstock is warm as if fire. “Have a safe trip back. You remember when the Shack is or shall I send with you a guide?” Kallias asks.

“I remember. Thank you, Kallias.”

“Anytime, friend.” Kallias responds. He turns back to his courtier and the two of them are dismissed.

* * *

“What’s the Icicle Shack?” Feyre asks.

“It’s a club here. The whole thing is made of ice, and the lights refract in the ice… it’s pretty cool.” Rhys explains. Rhys walks with Feyre through the capital of Winter. Through the winding city and to the edge of a large frozen lake. Rhys brings Feyre to a building that was as white as snow. He knocks on the door, and a small chink in the ice slid slightly so that Feyre can see a single ice-blue eye. The eye widened slightly and the door opened.

“Rhys!” The person on the other side shouted. He and Rhys shook hands friendily.

“It’s good to see you.” Rhys says. Rhys and he exchange pleasantries and then he lets Feyre and Rhys into the Icicle Shack.

The place is glistening from the way the sun hits the ice. The walls are multicolored and the colors flicker and swim as they’re reflected by the ice. Music pounds through the building, and the rush of bodies makes the building warm. Feyre stands on her tip-toes to look for Lucien’s telltale red hair. She finally spots him dancing with a woman from Winter in a corner of the dance floor. They seem to be friends (Lucien has friends everywhere though), and they laugh as they dance.

Feyre pushes through the crowd, trying not to draw attention to herself. Rhys stays by the bar, and orders some liquid courage while he’s there. The peppermint drink he orders is hot and fills him with a fuzzy and warm feeling. He downs it in a couple gulps and pays the bartender while he watches Feyre cut in between Lucien and the female he’s dancing with. He scowls at her. She whispers something to him and he raises an eyebrow, glancing around until his eyes meet Rhys’. He nods his head and nudges it to the door.

Feyre and Lucien make their way back across the dance floor and Rhys follows them outside (it’s almost impossible to have a conversation inside with the volume of the music). Lucien walks towards the lake and leans against an evergreen, arms crossed. His cheeks are pink from the cold and dancing, and his breath fogs the air. He wears a foxfur coat (Rhys refrains from making a joke about that) and bright red fur-lined gloves.

“What’s up?” He asks.

Feyre motions for Rhys to speak but Rhys swallows thickly and his ears turn pink instead (he can blame it on the cold).

Lucien speaks without opening his mouth, lowering a hole in the wall around his mind. _This better?_ Lucien asks.

Rhys lets out a grateful: _Yes_.

Feyre glances at the two of them. “Are you two-Are you having a telepathic conversation?” She asks.

 _Yeah. Sorry,_ Rhys tells her. She switches to her daemati powers. _I forgot you don’t do this often. You have to go looking for Lucien’s thoughts, since he doesn’t have the powers to as if, show them to you. Yeah?_

Feyre pokes around for a little until she finds the specific holes in Lucien’s firey wall of jade. _Gotcha._

 _What’s so important we can’t be overheard?_ Lucien asks.

Feyre nudges Rhys again. Rhys is glad he has the drink to soften his tongue. But, instead, his thoughts come out without any tact whatsoever. _Want to have a threesome with us?_ He asks.

Lucien glances at Feyre. _So…_ he says slowly. _She knows._

 _Not everything. Just enough._ Feyre says before he can continue, so as not to give him the wrong idea. _Plus whatever you choose to tell me._

Lucien nods. _Okay… why me?_ Lucien asks.

Feyre glances at Rhys, then shrugs. _Rhys’ choice and frankly, I’ve always thought you were hot._

Lucien stares at them for a minute. His expression is flat, and since he has walled back up his jade barrier Feyre can’t passively see what he’s thinking. His metal eye whirs in his head. He blinks once. Then shrugs.

“Okay.”

Feyre is surprised. She had expected some… convincing or _something_.

“One condition.” Lucien adds before she can celebrate too much. This sounds more like what Feyre expected. _No one knows. Not the Inner Circle, not Elain, not Helion, not Tamlin, no one._

“O-Of course.” Feyre says at the same time as Rhys agrees with “Absolutely.”

_Lucien, do you mind me asking why?_

_My sex life as been a popular subject for gossip for too long._ Lucien says flippantly. _I’m sick of people knowing my business. So, no one knows._

“Okay.” Feyre agrees. Lucien holds out a hand and she glances at Rhys. Are they… making a promise?

Rhys takes the hand without questions. Lucien and him shake and Feyre can feel the magic work itself. No tattoo appears, which isn’t surprising as this is supposed to be a secret as it is. Then, Lucien turns to Feyre. “I’d assumed you’d trust me enough.”

Lucien keeps his hand out. Feyre takes it. She can feel magic pull and tug at her lips, and then it’s gone.

“I have some work to continue here.” Lucien says. “I can wrap it up tonight. I’ll just check with Kallias.”

“Okay,” Rhys responds, “should we wait for you?”

Lucien shrugs. “Whatever works for you.”

“We’ll wait at the House of Wind, then continue on to the cabin together.” Feyre says. Lucien raises an eyebrow, a smirk flickering on his lips.

 _A Cabin? Rhys… you never told me you had a cabin… is it somewhere like in the middle of the woods? With no one around to hear you scream?_ Feyre can hear the laughter in his tone, but that doesn’t distract from the sly in his voice.

Rhys blushes and stares Lucien down. “I guess you’ll have to see.”

Lucien laughs, his voice deep and husky. “I guess I will.” He gives the two of them a wink and begins walking past them and back towards the club. “I’ll see you two later then.” He waves as he goes.

“See you, Lucien.” Feyre calls back. The two of them watch him go. After he’s out of their sight Feyre tightens her coat around her before she glances at Rhys who is standing very still and is still blushing. Feyre narrows her eyes, smiling amusedly. _Are-Are you hard? Just by that?_

Rhys’ eyes widen and his blush becomes a deeper red. Clearly flustered he stammers, _w-what? No!_

_Uh huh._

_I’m not!_

_If I knew it only took a slight flirting from him to get you this excited, we would have probably done this way earlier._

_Fey!_

* * *

Lucien slides his coat off slowly as he takes in the cabin. “Nice.” He says, whistling. He stares at the murals Feyre had painted. His eye flickers around the room, taking in everything.

“Glad you like it.” Feyre says. “Tea?” She offers.

Lucien shakes his head, eye never leaving the walls and ceiling. “Thank you, but no.”

Feyre sips from her own mug, watching him. He doesn’t seem in the slightest embarrassed, but his cheeks are a tight red from the cold outside. Feyre watches as his magic swirls around him, warming him. It’s a cool trick, Feyre thinks. Pun unintended. She wonders what else he can do with his fire…

Feyre is startled from her thoughts by Lucien speaking. “So.” He says. He walks into the bedroom, and twirls a lock of his hair as he goes. “What are we doing?” Feyre follows him into the room.

Rhys glances at him from the bed. Everyone in the room is still wearing their clothes, which Feyre immediately thinks will be an issue.

“It’s Rhys’ fantasy primarily.” Feyre offers.

Rhys glances at her like she just threw him under the horse, and she just shrugs at him. Lucien looks between them.

“Okay,” he says, “Rhys, then.”

Rhys pinks from the stares his partners are giving him. “It’s-It’s not like-I mean every one’s different, I can’t really… explain it.”

“Then don’t explain,” Lucien says, “show us.”

Rhys frowns and closes his eyes. A flash of concepts run through Feyre’s mind. When she blinks her eyes open, the concepts are gone.

Lucien chews on his lip thoughtfully. “Okay.” He says finally. “I can work with that.” He turns to Feyre and walks towards her. “Tell me if you don’t like something or are uncomfortable.” Lucien tells her.

He’s so close to her, she can smell him. Lucien isn’t much taller than she is, and he certainly isn’t broader. She knows he’s strong, but he isn’t built like Cassian or Rhys—or even Az is for that matter. He bends down to her and presses his lips to hers, and she can taste smoke. It’s like her hands have a mind of their own. She winds them in his thick hair. She’s dreamed of this, but never spoken of it before. When he pulls back from her and looks at her with that metal eye, Feyre wonders if he knows exactly what she is thinking. He bends back down to kiss her and stops, hovering right above her lips.

“What do you like?” He asks her, his voice a whisper. Feyre stares into his eyes, hypnotized by the heat from his hands and the warm way he looks at her.

“She likes to be bent over hard surfaces.” Rhys says from the bed where he is sitting.

Lucien grins at her. Feyre swallows thickly. “I can work with that.” He whispers. He glances over at Rhys slyly. “And you like to watch, don’t you? You’ve always been lazy, willing to let others do the work for you.”

Rhys narrows his eyes, something sparkles in them despite his expression. “Shut up.”

Feyre can see the game they’re playing. She doesn’t quite understand it. In her opinion, there’s no point in measuring dicks when they can just both pull down one anothers’ pants and see the bigger one for themselves, but it’s not about her. Feyre notes Rhys’ reactions (for later, maybe), but then Lucien kisses her again and she gets distracted.

Everyone in the room is still clothed, Feyre realizes, and that’s an issue. Feyre gropes at Lucien’s shirt hem, but has to stop to help Lucien take off her shirt. Then, Lucien picks her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist and forgets she was trying to take off his shirt in the first place. When Lucien slams her into the wall next to the bed, Feyre lets out a soft gasp, hands tugging on Lucien’s hair.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” Feyre whispers when Lucien moves his mouth down her jaw and onto her neck. He digs his teeth into the space between her collarbone and neck, and Feyre lets out a moan, her eyes blinking closed.

“You too?” Lucien asks, his tone spiced with a laugh. She feels his hands, soft and warm, travel down her hips and feels one slip beneath her waistband. The hand grazes on the inside of her thigh and the sensitive skin there can feel everything, the way his fingers hover there, as if unsure, the new calluses he’s sporting—life with the Band of Exiles hasn’t particularly kind to him—his short nails, scraping by.

She wants those fingers inside her. She can feel something burning inside of her lower belly. She feels warm.

His fingers inch beneath her underwear, and brush over her vagina. Feyre swallows thickly. When she looks up at Lucien he’s staring at her. She quivers under his hands, and when the pad of his thumb brushes over her clit she arches back by the sudden contact.

 _It feels good,_ is the only thing that she can coherently think as Lucien slowly begins to rub her clit. She leans her head back against the wall and Lucien lowers his head to kiss her neck slowly. Feyre moans as he adds a second finger to his thumb. In conjunction the two fingers stroke her slowly and lovingly. His mouth kisses his way back up to her mouth and he swallows her moans. He pushes her against the wall—hard. She feels sandwiched between the wall and Lucien, and doesn’t mind it. She can feel his erection through his pants, hard against her leg as his fingers continue to work her.

She feels that spot in her lower belly begin to curl in on itself and she grinds against his hips, eliciting a moan from his lips. Faintly, she can also hear soft panting that she isn’t sure isn’t coming from her. Lucien breaks his lips from her neck to say, “Already pleasuring yourself, Rhys? Don’t you usually last longer?”

 _So the panting is Rhys._ Feyre thinks vaguely between the gasps and moans that take up most of her brain power currently. Lucien’s fingers work her harder and faster, and with every grind of her hips, Lucien involuntarily thrusts into her. The curling warmth in her begins to tighten and she breaths out an “almost, _almost_ ,” the closer and closer she is until all movement from Lucien’s end suddenly and unfairly stops.

Confused, and hot and bothered, Feyre brings her head up from the wall and pouts at Lucien. “What? You get tired or something?” There something vaguely deja vu-like about this situation.

Lucien just kisses her lips and whispers against them, “not yet.” He takes his hand from her pants, soaked with her, and runs his index finger across her lower lip. When Feyre opens her mouth to respond, he slips his slick fingers into her mouth and her lips close around them. Lucien drops her down so she’s standing on the ground and then flips her over and does quick work of her pants. It’s then that she realizes where this feeling of deja vu comes from, one of the fantasy-concepts Rhys had flashed in their head was exactly like this.

Feyre hears Lucien’s pants drop to the floor and since Feyre’s still plenty wet Lucien slips right into her. She’s bent over the bed, looking at Rhys as Lucien slams into her and Feyre cries out as she sees stars only to swallow Lucien’s fingers further. Rhys is rubbing himself, entranced by the sight in front of him. “It’s not a hard surface, but I hope it will do.” Lucien says in her ear. Feyre feels the chills go up and down her arms and back.

Lucien removes his fingers from Feyre’s mouth and uses that hand to brace himself on the bed. He uses his other hand to reach down to Feyre’s clit and stroke it while he pounds into her. “You like this, Rhysand? Me fucking your mate? Knowing that she’s wanted me for a long time?” Lucien asks him.

Rhysand’s eyes stay on Feyre. Lucien laughs from behind her—good-naturedly, with warmth and humor—and the quakes from the laugh shake through Feyre. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Feyre pants against the bed. Lucien brushes the hair out of her eyes so she can better see Rhys and the touch is intensified by the sex, bringing sparks. Feyre has two free hands and she clenches them into the sheets as she watches Rhys continue to rub his extremely erect penis. Feyre groans into the mattress and hears a groan from Lucien as Feyre’s noise had sent a shiver through her body. Feyre uncurls her hands from the sheets and glances back up at Rhys.

 _Is this what you expected, Lover?_ She asks him and he seems so entranced he doesn’t even respond. His mouth hangs open as he watches them. Feyre blows him a kiss with one of her free hands and she watches as pre-cum pearls from Rhysand’s head.

Lucien digs his hand into Feyre’s hair and scrapes her clit, sending her into an orgasm. The curling warmth in her belly explodes and she shudders, her legs going limp and unable to hold her up any more. She lets out a strangled cry and her orgasm shoots through her. Pleasure makes her skin sensitive and every touch of the silk sheets and Lucien’s hands spark and burn her in a good way. She shudders once more, and Lucien slowly pulls out of her, still erect. She’s dripping off the bed and is still reveling in her orgasm too much to care.

Lucien pulls off his shirt and walks over to Rhysand. Feyre crawls slightly to fully climb onto the bed and she watches as Lucien takes Rhys’ vigorously pumping hand into his. His dick quivers and the pre-cum continues to dribble from it.

“What do you think, Rhys? Is this better than fantasy?” Lucien asks.

“Fuck you.” Rhys says, his voice weaker than he wanted.

Lucien smirks. “I thought you were the one who liked being fucked.” He says. “I mean, if you prefer then I guess I’ll just have to-”

“ _No_.” Rhysand’s voice is strangled.

“Say the magic words...”

“Please.” Rhys whispers. “Fuck me.”

Lucien grins and lowers himself and begins to suck off Rhysand.

And it’s the sexiest thing Feyre’s ever seen.

Lucien knows his way around Rhys’ dick. He licks up the shaft, slowly until he reaches the head and then he slowly lowers himself onto the head. Rhysand throws back his head, and it smacks against the headboard of the bed, but he doesn’t mind. His hands curl in Lucien’s hair as he makes the most obscene grunts and groans. Feyre watches, and slowly brings a heavy hand down to her vagina. She strokes her labia as she watches them, before traveling her hand to her clit.

Lucien pulls off of Rhysand’s penis and grabs his hips. He pulls them closer to him to give himself room to begin fingering Rhysand’s ass, and lowers his mouth back down. The moment Lucien sticks his first finger into Rhys’ asshole Rhys begins to cum, and Lucien swallows it all despite the bitter taste. Rhysand shudders, tensing around Lucien’s fingers and clenches his hands in Lucien’s hair. When the pleasure finally rushes over him he relaxes, his hands falling from Lucien’s head, a few red strands of hair coming with them.

Lucien sits back on his feet, still erect. Rhys pants, his penis flaccid but not for long. Rhys still has waves of orgasm rippling through him. He watches as Lucien shifts into a more comfortable position and pulls his hair back into a ponytail. Lucien leans over to Feyre and presses a quick kiss to her lips, pulling her hand from between her legs. “Not yet. Later.” He promises as he slides off the bed and begins poking around in the bedside table. “Where’s your lube?” He asks.

“Bottom drawer.” She’s sure she heard Lucien laugh and say ‘of course,’ amusedly. “Rhys likes the purple bottle the best.” Feyre says. Her eyes meet Rhys’. His are glazed slightly, already refocusing and he is already half hard again. Lucien pulls the bottle from the drawer and scans the label. _Not a bad choice_ , Lucien thinks. Lucien twists off the cap and pours a generous amount into his hand. He puts the bottle on the nightstand and walks back to the bed.

Lucien slicks his dick up and a couple fingers. Rhys watches, his eyes entirely focused, his own dick slowly becoming harder and harder.

Lucien kisses Rhys and Rhys can taste himself on Lucien’s lips. His slick hand beginning to massage Rhys’ dick, helping it erect itself. Lucien holds his other hand out for Feyre to take and she does. He pulls her close to them and moves his lips to her breasts, continuing to pump Rhys’ penis. His tongue swirls around her puckered nipple and his teeth scrape it, shooting sensation through Feyre.

She arches her back into his mouth, which only spurs him on. He slides his other hand to her ass and she gasps as he squeezes it. He lowers the hand to her vagina and begins stroking her, taking up where she’d left off. Feyre gasps. She wants those lips back on hers but she also doesn’t want him to leave her breasts. Instead, she reaches over Lucien and for Rhysand. She brings Rhysand to her and kisses him roughly, biting his lip and bruising his lips. Invigorated by Lucien’s slow strokes, Rhysand responds in kind, his hand joins Lucien’s, only his enters her—pumping in and out while Lucien stimulates her clit.

Feyre arches her back and lets out a moan so loud it almost crosses the line into a scream and in turn Rhys lets out one of his own. Lucien grunts, his mouth full of Feyre’s breast and she feels wetness drip onto her leg. When Feyre looks down she sees that Lucien is finally pre-cumming.

When Lucien is satisfied by the amount of worked up the High Lord and Lady of Night are, he disentangles himself from them and watches as Rhysand falls onto Feyre, humping her into the bed while he works her. Lucien relubes his hand and begins to stroke himself, while Rhysand and Feyre naturally move together until Rhysand slips into her.

Rhys pushes her into the bed with every reckless thrust and Lucien climbs behind him, and sticks his lubed fingers into Rhys’ asshole, working it open. Rhys lets out a cry into Feyre’s mouth but doesn’t tell Lucien to stop. Rhys is tense from being worked up and unused to being taken from behind after so long, so it takes a while for Lucien to work him open, which Lucien is fine with. He watches as Rhysand leans down, biting a line of hickeys down Feyre’s neck and chest. Feyre’s cries out. Her eyes unseeing, stare at the ceiling. Her mouth is open and perfect for fucking, but this is Rhysand’s fantasy, Lucien reminds himself, and anything further with Feyre will have to wait until Lucien is finished with Rhys. She cries out with every heavy thrust of Rhysand’s and her eyes flicker closed as Rhys begins to work her closer to her next orgasm.

“What do you want, Rhys?” Lucien asks Rhys as he works a third finger into his ass. Rhys cries out, his eyes watering. But he doesn’t tell Lucien to stop. At this point, Lucien is worried about whether or not Rhys has the presence of mind to be able to and so he asks his lover. _Is this okay_?

Rhys answers belated by a few seconds. _More. More, please._

 _Are you sure_?

 _Fuck me Lucien, please, I’m so close, we’re so close,_ Rhys is babbling in Lucien’s mind—begging him for more. His mind is so preoccupied with Feyre and the squeals coming from her mouth, and the chants of “ _More, Rhys, more Love, more please, more more more_ ”

“What the High Lord wants...” Lucien begins. He slams himself into Rhysand’s ass and Rhys screams into Feyre’s shoulder. He’s begging aloud now, and so is she. The utter messes Lucien has reduced them to, makes Lucien fully come, unable to hold it in anymore as he’s been doing for so long so as to give his partners their orgasms first. Lucien slams into Rhysand as hard as he can and his arms give out on him. He falls onto the High Lord of Night as his orgasm rockets through him. Rhysand comes next, being pushed over the edge with the sensation of being filled by Lucien. Rhysand’s ass is leaking with Lucien’s cum and Lucien’s falls from Rhys, so as not to be hurt by the tensing of Rhys’ ass on Lucien’s now flaccid and sensitive penis.

Lucien barely has the sense of mind to move as he’s still high on his orgasm. When he lays on the bed, next to Feyre, he sees how close she is to coming and wipes at her face, brushing hair from her eyes. She’s panting heavily, her eyes squeezed shut. Rhysand shudders in her through the shocks of his orgasm. His hand which had been vigorously rubbing her clit falls away, and Lucien notices enough to make his fingers (the ones that had opened up Rhysand to him) take up where Rhys had left off and Lucien kisses her shoulder (he’s too spent to lean further to her face to reach her lips) and with a cry Feyre cums. Her body trembles and clenches around Rhysand, and Rhys cries into her shoulder. His head bumps with Lucien’s and Lucien turns slightly to swallow his cries with his mouth and kisses him through the rest of his orgasm.

Finally Feyre releases Rhysand and Lucien rolls onto his back, away from the mates. Rhysand kisses Feyre softly as he pulls out of her and onto his back. He’s still leaking from Lucien’s release, but he’s too tired to care. Feyre pants and shudders. Her eyes clamped shut while Rhys’ are glazed from the two orgasms.

Lucien slowly sits up. He climbs back over to the drawer where he took out the lube (slowly, he may have the stamina of five sexually-frustrated teenagers but he hadn’t done something like this in a while). He puts the lube back in and Rhys mumbles a “N-Not yet… for-for later…”

Lucien laughs. “Later, huh? Still horny?”

Rhys mumbles something incoherent and rolls over, cuddling into Feyre’s arms. He rests his head on her breasts, listening to her heartbeat.

Lucien snorts and leaves the lube out, mainly because Rhysand specifically asked more than any other reason. He could be ready to go back at it in a few minutes, he knows, but he thinks that the High Lord and Lady of Night might need a little more time. Lucien reaches into another drawer, the nightstand is like a mini adult toy store, and reaches for the wipes. Slowly he climbs back to his two lovers and kisses Feyre’s neck while he begins to clean her up. Rhys grumbles something into Feyre’s breasts but his eyes are closed, so Lucien isn’t exactly sure if he’s awake. Lucien climbs over to Rhys and cleans him up too. Rhys turns over and blinks his eyes open slowly. Behind him, Feyre’s breaths have finally evened out and she slowly opens her eyes and watches as Lucien helps Rhys finish cleaning himself up.

Finally Lucien begins to wipe himself down when he heard Feyre rasp timidly: “Again?” As if she isn’t sure he’ll say yes.

Rhys clasps Feyre’s hand in his and looks at Lucien. “Again?” He adds. His own voice is husky and deep. His eyes look hungry.

“Are you sure?” Lucien asks. “I mean, I’m from Autumn you two-”

“Again.” The two of them say in unison, affirmatively.

Lucien grins back at them and leans down to kiss each on the cheek. “Again.” He agrees.

Before he can even move, Feyre rolls over and pushes him against the bed. Rhysand rounds up behind her, pressing kisses to her back and neck. “You’re turn. You’re one orgasm behind.” She says.

Feyre straddles Lucien, leaning back against Rhys’ front, sighing from his touch. She turns to Rhysand, as if to ask permission and he takes enough time from kissing her to nod, then goes back to assaulting her back. His hands roaming down her body, front and back and Feyre shivers, rocking on Lucien. Her movement sends his penis back to half-mast, and Lucien is sure full attention isn’t far behind.

Lucien tosses the wipes onto the night stand, they’re going to need them for later.

* * *

When Feyre wakes up she’s curled around Rhys. She kisses the back of his neck and Rhys doesn’t move, still sleeping soundly. She turns to her bedside table and pulls out her and Rhys’ fantasy notebook. She opens to the page they’re on and notices that the fantasy “Threesome” has been crossed off, with a note beside it in neat and small handwriting.

_Don’t be strangers. The door is always open for friends._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> Here we go. So, on August 13th, 2018 my life will change dramatically (hopefully for the better). However, this will mean that I won't be able to participate in fandom to the extent that I used to.  
> Hopefully, after a few months (where I will be extremely preoccupied and without my computer) I will be able to return to fandom at a similar extent that I used to--fics, etc. However, this isn't a promise. I just thought it fair for you all to know.  
> I love you all. You've been so kind to me and lovely. This isn't a goodbye, I'll still be around, if only lurking in the shadows from time to time. But still, you've all been so incredibly supportive and welcoming. Thank you for that.  
> So, until next time,  
> XOXO  
> Diana


End file.
